


Dear Life

by drarryangels



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Boys getting older, Children, Coping, Depression, Drarry, Falling In Love, Fighting, Fluff, Grandparents, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Implied Mpreg, Kisses, Life - Freeform, Light Smut, Love, M/M, Malfoy-Potter kids - Freeform, Mpreg, New Year's Eve, Old Married Couple, PTSD, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Rain, Sickness, Smut, St. Mungos, Time - Freeform, Touch, Trauma, Tumblr Prompt, Very lightly implied Mpreg, drunk, drunk boys, housesitting, new year's, sick, timelapse, touch starved, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22288111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drarryangels/pseuds/drarryangels
Summary: "Draco ran his fingers over the headstone at his feet and let his creaky knees fold underneath him to sit on the grass. When he was younger, he thought he’d never get old like this. With bad joints, white hair, and off trend clothes. Harry would’ve laughed at him if he could see Draco sitting in the dirt sniffling over his lost touch in the fashion industry."Or the story where Draco and Harry get to grow old together and be happy.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Comments: 25
Kudos: 180





	Dear Life

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a Tumblr prompt (thank you anon!). Check me out on Tumblr @drarryangels

_**Present** _

Draco ran his fingers over the headstone at his feet and let his creaky knees fold underneath him to sit on the grass. When he was younger, he thought he’d never get old like this. With bad joints, white hair, and off trend clothes. Harry would’ve laughed at him if he could see Draco sitting in the dirt sniffling over his lost touch in the fashion industry. 

Harry would’ve laughed at Draco no matter what he was doing in this moment. Unfortunately, Harry, the love of his life, was currently laying in peace several feet under where Draco was sitting. 

Draco dropped his head and flattened his palms on the warm spring grass. No matter how many times he told his family, his and Harry’s family, that he was doing alright, he still missed Harry. He would never stop missing Harry. 

The wonderful thing, the only thing that made Harry’s death bearable at all, was that nothing terrible had happened. Harry hadn’t been slaughtered by Voldemort, and neither had Draco. They’d lived full lives together, bickering and laughing and snogging each other senseless. 

One early morning almost three months ago, Draco had woken up before the sun had come up, reaching out to the other side of the bed for Harry’s warm huffs of breath. When his fingers had brushed over the soft ridges of spine poking out from Harry’s back, he wasn’t breathing. In that moment, Draco stopped breathing too. 

Draco had cried and tried to shake him awake. But after that, there wasn’t anything to be done. Scorpius and Sirius, their wonderful sons, had come by later in the day with tea, hugs, and lots of tears. 

When it came down to it, the truth was that Harry had died in his sleep with Draco wrapped around him. Their lives were quiet in their retirement, and their sons were grown up with children of their own. They were in love and at peace. Draco couldn’t help but think that’s how Harry would’ve wanted it. 

Draco shifted his weight so he could lean lightly against Harry’s headstone. Even if he knew Harry had gone happily when all was right in the world, the loss still ached deep in Draco’s stomach. Even a whiff of cedar and bergamot could send Draco into a collapse. Something slight would remind him of Harry, and he’d burst into tears and have to sit down. There was nothing he could do but swirl the wedding band around his finger and wish Harry were still here. But wishing for him wouldn’t bring him back, and knowing he went well wouldn’t minimize the pain of losing him. 

But their memories were all his, dazzling across his eyes in short bursts of recollection. Little pieces of Harry slotting his hand in the dip of Draco’s back, from ages 19 to 101. The glide of Harry’s eyes and the stumble of his laugh, holding hands, laying on top of each other in teasing spite and claiming to be cuddling to anyone who inquired. Snippets of skin sliding across skin and Harry’s mouth eclipsing over Draco’s shoulder. 

Draco didn’t shy away from the stab in his chest when a phantom memory of Harry’s hand in his hair washed over him. He simply leaned back and let a million pieces of his life play in front of him. 

* * *

**_19 years old_ **

Of course, there had been that New Year’s Party the year after the war ended. Draco and Harry hadn’t been going out by then, but that hadn’t stopped Harry from pressing right up to Draco’s side with a sloppy grin. 

“You’re drunk,” Draco said immediately, shrugging Harry off of him. 

“I’m not,” Harry insisted clearly. Draco looked him over. No slurring, stumbling, or dizziness. He seemed alright. Then again, Harry was known in the gossip wheels for being able to hold his liquor well. 

“Let me check,” Draco rolled his eyes and passed his wand over Harry. Based on his synopsis, Harry had only had a few sips of champagne. Other than that, he was as sturdy as a buried tree trunk. 

“I told you so,” Harry smiled and winked. 

Draco raised his eyebrow and fought off a smile, pushing Harry away for the second time. 

“Your hair looks nice,” Harry said a moment later, his face now serious. Draco observed Harry carefully as his fingers twitched and then ran nervously through his hair, and then his suit, pressing out the non existent wrinkles. 

Draco reached up self consciously to tug at his loose, shoulder length hair. “Thank you,” he said to his shoes. “I think I’m going to cut it soon, but I rather like it. I suppose it’s a nice change from the slicked back look in school. I wasn’t a huge fan of that, if you can imagine.”

Harry laughed aloud, “I actually can’t.”

Draco snorted and didn’t shove Harry away when he leaned back into him. “You can thank my father for that whole phase.”

“I most certainly will not,” Harry said firmly, still laughing. 

By midnight, Draco was still standing and laughing with Harry. They’d never talked for this long before and Draco was pleasantly surprised by how thoughtful and wickedly funny Harry was. They sat down with drinks at a side table in the wide, transformed Great Hall that had been used to throw a New Year’s reunion party for Harry and Draco’s class. 

When the clock struck twelve, Draco tried not to think too hard. He turned when he felt Harry’s eyes on him. And he slipped his hand into Harry’s. That was all. Harry’s face melted and he looped his fingers through Draco’s. Draco set his head down on Harry’s shoulder and looked at their hands together. Warm and cool, blended and balanced.

“Happy New Year, Harry.”

**_26 years old_ **

“You never listen to me!” Draco shouted across the room. Harry only shifted his weight to the other hip and folded his arms across his chest. If Draco wasn’t a 26 year old man, he would’ve stomped his foot on the ground and sat on the ground to scream and cry. 

As it was, he did that anyhow. 

Harry’s hands instantly dropped and he came over to Draco’s side. 

“Draco?” he asked cautiously. “Are you alright?”

“I’m just fine,” Draco sniffed and scooted away from Harry. 

Harry sat down across from Draco on the hard tiled floor of Hermione and Ron’s kitchen and pushed his legs out towards Draco’s. Draco didn’t do anything when Harry pushed his toe into his thigh, but he didn’t move further away. Harry took that to be a good sign. 

“Draco,” Harry said flatly. “Please don’t be dramatic. Are you okay, or are you not?”

Draco took his hands away from his face and leaned back on the cabinets behind him. He glared at Harry across from him and swatted his foot away when he tried to poke him in the leg again. 

“You’re an idiot,” Draco snapped. His lashes were stuck together with tears and his face felt tight from the screaming that had consumed the past two hours. It was lucky Hermione and Ron were on vacation with Rose. Draco and Harry were supposed to be house sitting, but their bickering over how much to water the houseplants had quickly turned into a full out screaming match. 

“What were we fighting about exactly?” Harry asked, sliding across the kitchen floor to sit closer to Draco. He peeked under the strands of blonde hair falling over Draco’s puffy eyes and let out a sigh of relief when Draco looked up at him.

“I don’t know. The houseplants?” Draco let out a sound that was both sob and laugh.

Harry tilted his head forward to rest on Draco’s shoulder while they laughed. Draco could feel his heartbeat in his collarbone where it was pressed into Harry’s forehead. 

“I’m sorry,” Draco whispered, lifting his hand up to the back of Harry’s head to skim his fingers over the curls drifting up against Harry’s neck. Harry shivered a little and Draco pressed closer to him and wrapped both of his arms around Harry. 

Harry skimmed his hands over Draco’s chest and stomach and breathed into his ear. “Let’s not do this again,” he said. 

“Okay,” Draco said and laughed brokenly. 

**_31 years old_ **

There was that day in the park, the one that always made Draco blush. Sunshine molted down through dappled leaves and over their skin, giving both pale and dark skin an ethereal glow, most especially when reflecting off each other. Draco was sitting half on top of Harry, one hand at Harry’s hip, and the other smoothing up his back. 

“I love you,” Harry whispered. Draco smiled and breathed in the brushes of cedar and bergamot that always graced Harry’s skin. 

“Harry,” Draco said softly. He linked one hand under Harry’s shoulder and tumbled them both backwards so he was laying on top of Harry. “I love, love you.”

“Two loves?” Harry laughed, his stomach rising and falling under Draco’s. Draco loved it. Every inch of skin pressed to him, even through clothes. Feeling Harry breathing and laughing under him was like being handed every key in the world. Suddenly, every door was open. 

“Love, love,” Draco repeated and kissed Harry until his dark skin was beet red and he had teeth marks down his neck. 

**_33 years old_ **

Draco slid open mouthed kisses down Harry’s chest, his naval, the inside of his thigh, the soft inner part of his knee. 

“Draco,” Harry gasped. Draco smiled into Harry’s knee and ran his hands up to hold onto Harry’s waist. 

Draco kissed back the path he had come down and crawled up Harry, flickering the tips of his fingers everywhere he could reach on Harry’s body. He moved up until his mouth was drifting just over Harry’s. Harry’s head was tipped back and his neck long and open. He lay there, his body molded over every part of Harry, and buried his face into Harry’s. 

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” Draco whispered, hearing his own voice repeating a prayer as if from a distance. Harry arched up into Draco, his hands coming up suddenly to pull Draco’s hips down to his. Draco slid his hands under Harry’s back and pulled them as close together as they could possibly be. Harry made a little sound that made Draco’s stomach swoop. And another sound, and then another. Little gasps and moans that made Draco want to absorb Harry into his own skin and hold him tight forever. 

“Draco,” Harry said again. Draco couldn’t hear anything but Harry saying his name again and again in his ears. “Oh.”

Draco pulled closer. Could they be any closer? Harry’s knees pressed on either side of him, heels digging into the back of his legs. Harry’s hair splayed out across the white pillow like a beautiful oil spill. Sweat glistening on Harry’s collarbones, on his neck. Licking and moving his mouth over the spot under Harry’s ear, inhaling everything Harry. Laundry detergent, fresh sweat, cedar and bergamot, the husky heat of his body under Draco’s. 

Draco dug his hands between Harry’s shoulder blades and the mattress and held onto dear life. _Dear life_. 

**_38 years old_ **

After four years of trying desperately to have children in any capacity, their babies were here. They’d tried adoption first, and it had fallen through every time Draco and Harry thought it would finally work. They’d tried using a surrogate with Luna, but that never stuck either. 

Finally, a magical obstetrician specialist had stepped in and suggested a core transplant. If both of them could give a small splice of their magical core and some DNA, they were in business. A couple months later, Draco was unbelievably pregnant with two baby boys. 

And now, nine months later, today was the day. 

Draco could hardly tell what had happened the past couple hours. All he knew was that Harry was crying over him with a tiny baby clutched in his arms, and there was another baby babbling peacefully in Draco’s hands. 

“Our two boys,” Harry cried. He crawled up onto the mussed hospital bed with Draco, cradling the baby carefully as he curled into Draco’s side. Draco stared down in disbelief. He couldn’t believe that these two little beings in their arms, with Harry against his side, were his. He couldn’t believe that this was his family. 

“I was thinking Sirius for one of them,” Draco said quietly. His senses had yet to fully return after giving labor to twins, but a light haired baby boy was looking up at him with huge green eyes, and Draco’s center was on fire with a kind of love he had never experienced before. 

Draco felt Harry’s slight intake of breath next to him. “Really?” Harry exhaled. 

“Really,” Draco smiled. “And maybe Scorpius for the other?”

Harry laughed. “I knew you’d squeeze a pretentious pureblood name in there somehow.”

Draco coughed pointedly. “Sirius _is_ a pretentious pureblood name.”

As far as Draco could tell, Harry was no longer listening. He cuddled closer to Draco on the hospital bed as the two of them held onto their sons, one with wavy light hair and wide green eyes and one who looked everything Draco but for the shock of wild black hair on the top of his head. 

Draco wiggled a little between the three people surrounding him, Scorpius, Sirius, and Harry, and settled into a new life of children, true love, and family. 

**_45 years old_ **

The sky was so gray, it was almost black. Through the smog, Draco could barely see Harry’s collapsed form leaned up against the prim little tree at the corner of the road. 

Draco looked up at the sign at the corner of the road. Privet Drive. Draco took a deep breath and walked towards the unmistakable shape of Harry’s shoulders under that horrid tree. 

“Harry?” Draco asked. The air sounded too quiet and empty, and Draco immediately regretted breaking the silence of this perfect square neighborhood. 

But when Harry lifted his face, cheeks streaked with tears and clear relief on his face, Draco didn’t regret it so much. He started forward, catching Harry halfway and pulling him close in a tight hug. Draco skimmed his hand up and down in between Harry’s shoulder blades. 

“Thank god you’re here,” he heard Harry mutter into his shirt. 

“What happened, love?” Draco asked, pulling Harry back and cupping his hands around the sides of Harry’s neck to see his face. 

“D-Dudley asked me to come for tea,” Harry stuttered, his face drawn up and trembling. 

“Yes, dear,” Draco prompted him. 

“It was fine,” Harry said. His bottom lip trembled violently. “I acted fine. But…” Draco didn’t encourage Harry’s words this time. One tear slipped down the side of Harry’s face. “But I wasn’t fine.”

“Oh, Harry,” Draco said as Harry turned bright red and let the tears cascade down. He took Harry’s hands and pulled him close again. 

A wretched sound reverberated from Harry’s chest and he dropped his face into Draco’s chest, one hand gripping tightly to Draco’s and the other slipping under the edge of Draco’s shirt and splaying over cool skin. 

“Come, my dear,” Draco tucked Harry under his cloak. “The boys are at home.”

Draco held onto Harry and took him home. There, they huddled on the couch under a mound of blankets while Scorpius and Sirius rolled on the floor in front of the telly and eventually fell asleep drinking hot cocoa. 

**_53 years old_ **

“You two are absolutely ridiculous,” Hermione giggled, hiccuping over her glass of wine. “What are you now, 52?”

“53!” Draco shouted back. He spun around in circles, facing up towards the rain with his hands splayed out around. Somewhere near him, Draco couldn’t tell exactly where because of the spinning, Harry was jumping up and down excitedly in a puddle of muddy rain. 

“Hell, yeah! 53 years old!” Harry whooped, nearly tripping into the side of the table Hermione and Ron were sitting at, under the canopy trailing off from the side of the cafe. “I feel 20 again!”

“Harry!” Draco shrieked, laughing and reaching out for him. He stopped spinning and dizzily stumbled back and forth with his hands stretched out for Harry. 

“I’m here,” Harry laughed breathily, catching onto Draco’s soaked coat and pulling him in. Draco fell into Harry’s arms and clung to him as they tripped over each other and spun in a dizzy, drunken daze. 

“I love the rain,” Harry sighed. He wrapped his arms around Draco’s neck and dropped his head back to let drops of water roll down his face. Draco stuffed his nose into the joint where Harry’s shoulder met his neck and let Harry use his weight to lean back and turn in a slow circle. 

“I love you,” Draco said into Harry’s skin. 

He could hear Harry’s smile in his response. “I know you do, old man.”

**_66 years old_ **

Draco poked at Harry’s face, staring down the reflection of the two of them staring back in the mirror. 

“You have wrinkles,” Draco said flatly. 

“And you have a receding hairline,” Harry responded, jabbing at Draco with his elbow. 

“Too soon,” Draco mock choked and clutched a hand at his chest. 

“Draco,” Harry rolled his eyes and shoved half heartedly at Draco. “It’s been ten years since you started balding. Get over it.”

“Pfft,” Draco straightened his tie and then turned Harry towards him by the shoulders to smooth out the wrinkles in his dress shirt. “Easy for you to say. You’ve had a full head of hair your whole life, and you’ll probably hold onto it until the day you die.”

Draco turned back towards the mirror and examined his face next to Harry’s. He watched their reflections as Harry settled a hand around his waist and tugged him closer. 

“Draco, love, don't worry so much,” Harry said quieter, settling his chin on Draco's shoulder. “Your skin is absolutely flawless. Your hair still looks wonderful. You have the best style I’ve ever encountered, and you maintain the ability to charm me whichever way you wish.”

Draco sighed. “It’s odd. I honestly never thought I’d get old. It’s hard to look at myself as a sixty something year old man when I thought I’d be dead by the time I turned seventeen.”

Both of their forms in the mirror stood straight in nice attire, ready for Scorpius’ wedding day. Draco figured he should be grateful that their eyes were clear, and their souls were alive. In a past life, there had been so many calls that should’ve rendered them dead, and yet here they both were, Harry and Draco side by side.

“I can understand that,” Harry said. He took Draco’s hand and drew him away from the mirror. 

Draco squeezed Harry’s hand. “I’m sorry. It’s our son’s wedding today. I shouldn’t be wallowing over this.”

Harry shook his head avidly, strands of black and silver falling over his forehead. “No, no. Don't apologize for feeling human. No one wants to get old.”

“I do,” Draco said quietly, urgently. Saying it made it a little more true. “Being old means I’ll have gotten to spend more and more years with you. Being old means seeing our kids grow more each day.”

Harry sighed as they walked out of their bedroom and down the stairs of their little cottage. “Wanting that, being grateful for that, doesn't mean you have to want to get old.”

“Maybe not,” Draco shrugged. “But it’s a life experience, right?”

Harry stopped in the living room and stood face to face with Draco. His eyes flickered across Draco’s face, searching for something underneath his smile that he wasn’t saying. There wasn’t anything Draco was trying to hide from him.

“A life experience I’ll share with you,” Harry confirmed and held out his other hand.

Draco took it and they Apparated away. 

**_78 years old_ **

“Harry, come down here!” Draco shouted up the stairs. “The boys are here!”

“I’m not deaf, love!” Harry yelled back. “There’s no need to shout!”

Draco chuckled to himself and turned back to Scorpius, who was shaking off his boots and cloak at the front door. “Your father is indeed tone deaf,” Draco said. “He just won’t admit it.”

Scorpius laughed and pulled Draco in for a hug. “Good to see you, Pa.”

Draco peeked around Scorpius’ shoulder. “Where is your little one?” Draco asked casually. “And your husband?”

Scorpius rolled his eyes, seeing through Draco’s casual facade. “They’re getting out of the car, Pa. No need to put on the tough guy act, they’re excited to see you.”

Draco huffed and flapped his hands in denial. “I don't like your sass, young man. Too much like your father.” A hand came up to rest on his shoulder and he looked to see Harry smiling wide at his side. 

“Hey, Scorp,” Harry grinned and grabbed Scorpius by the shoulder to yank him into a big hug. “I missed you, kiddo.”

“Ouch,” Scorpius said. He rubbed his shoulder and tried to straighten his fine blonde hair. “Dad, calm down.”

Draco smirked. “Yes, Harry dear, calm down already. He’s all big now.”

“Shut up,” Harry brushed Draco off light heartedly. “He’s still my baby. Now where is my grandchild?”

“ _Our_ grandchild,” Draco snapped. 

“Yes, yes, where is she?”

“Here, Grandda!” a tiny voice whirled through the front door, bringing in a mound of snow. 

“Hello, my little Cassie,” Harry grinned and caught the tiny blonde girl as she hurtled through the door and into his arms. “Ah, you’ve gotten so big!”

Draco leaned into Harry and skimmed his hand carefully over Cassie’s hair. After having twin boys for sons, Draco was still so careful with handling Cassiopia’s brisk femininity. Scorpius, on the other hand, had been a perfect fit to have a daughter. It looked like her hair had been put in pretty ribbons that morning, but they had somehow been mussed and tangled on the way to Grimmauld Place, the home Draco and Harry had made for themselves. 

“Bunny kiss!” Cassie squealed, reaching her hands out expectantly to Draco. Draco’s face softened into a small smile as he leaned forward into Cassie’s hands. Chubby little fingers latched onto Draco’s ears and pulled his face to hers to squint her button nose up against the straight profile of Draco’s. 

“I hope you never get too old for bunny kisses,” Draco whispered, so softly that only Harry could hear it. He doubted even Cassie could hear him. Harry pulled one of his hands free from Cassie and quietly laced his fingers with Draco’s. Draco squeezed tightly. He detangled himself from Cassie’s grip and took her from Harry to set her down. As soon as her feet were on the ground, Cassie took off, dashing throughout the house and giggling. 

Harry turned to see the tender look on Scorpius’ face as Cassie drifted throughout the house. Harry reached out to him. 

“We’re proud of you, kiddo,” Harry said. 

Draco held onto Harry’s hand a little tighter as he spoke to Scorpius. “You’re a wonderful father, sweetheart.”

Scorpius’ cheeks flushed pink and he hugged his dads. “Thank you, Pa, Dad. I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without both of you.” 

At that moment, Albus, Luna and Ginny’s son, came through the still-open door with a bright smile and a waving shock of red hair. 

“Hello!” he greeted, closing the door behind them. He immediately latched onto the hug, as only a son of Luna’s ever could, and Harry opened his arms to his family and blessed all the stars in the universe that this was what had become of his life. 

**_84 years old_ **

Harry coughed again violently. Draco sighed and cuddled closer into his side on bed in St. Mungo’s. This could be it, Draco reminded himself. He’d been trying to remind himself of this gently ever since Harry had started getting sick about a year ago. There would be these moments, when Harry was so tired he couldn’t pick his head up to cough and they’d be in St. Mungo’s every couple of months. Moments where Draco would think, this is it. This is the last time I’ll be able to hold him like this. 

Thank Merlin, it never was the last time. 

But they were here again, in the same bed, Draco holding up Harry’s head in the same way so that he could breathe without choking. 

Harry coughed again, so weak, but the sound tearing out of him like an unstoppable storm wrecking his body into ragged pieces. Draco hugged him tighter and tried not to let his head catch him up in a nightmare that couldn’t come true. 

“Shh,” Draco stroked his hand through Harry’s thick silver hair. 

“Draco,” Harry rasped out, barely any sound emerging from his mouth. 

“Yes, dear?” Draco pulled himself up so he could look into Harry’s face. 

Harry shook his head and smiled thinly. “I just wanted to say your name,” he mouthed. 

Draco didn’t know when he had started crying. 

Oh, Merlin. He was still so in love, and oh, Harry couldn’t die. Everything would fall apart if he died. 

“Don't die,” Draco choked out. Shaky breaths worked their way through his body, pressed into Harry’s. “Please. _Please_ don't die.”

Harry shook his head again and tried to smile. Draco laid down next to him and hugged him so tightly he could feel Harry’s heartbeat beating through the cracks of his ribs. 

None of the Healers knew exactly why this horrid, deathly cough kept chasing after Harry. It was a relatively common case in younger magical kids, but after they got it once, they never got it again. It shouldn’t have been possible to contract after ten years of age. And yet, Harry was still trapped in this sticky hospital bed with the same cough that was ripping up the insides of his body, and there was nothing Draco could do about it. The two of them just had to sit and ride it out. 

Draco just didn’t know if it would ever end. Or if it did, if it would end right along with Harry. 

**_95 years old_ **

“Pa,” Sirius said gently. Draco startled awake to see his son looming over him.

“Oh, Sirius,” Draco muttered and pushed himself out of his worn down armchair. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Sirius smiled softly and bent to hug Draco close. “That’s alright, Pa. I don't mind. It was nice seeing you again.”

Draco patted his son’s cheek gently and tried to ignore the pains that never stopped aching in his body these days. Being an old man still managed to surprise Draco every day. Being an old man with Harry surprised him even more. 

“Where’s your dad?” Draco asked, vainly combing his fingers through the few strands of hair he had left. 

“He’s in the kitchen making tea,” Sirius said. “I’ll walk you in there.”

Draco glared at him. “I may be 100 years old, but I can make it the few steps into the kitchen, Sirius Malfoy-Potter.”

Sirius grinned wildly, his dark graying hair swiping across his freckled forehead. “Can you?” Sirius smirked. “And as far as I know, you didn’t age another five years in the last half hour.”

“You’re a snarky bastard,” Draco muttered, resting his hand against his back to stretch. “Even at 57 years of age.”

“Always have been, always will be,” Sirius winked and bent over to carefully fold up the blankets Draco had left nested in his armchair by the fire in their tiny living room. 

The little house Harry and Draco had been living in for the past couple years was almost as small and warm as Grimmauld Place had been big and foreign. Harry had been reluctant to leave Grimmauld’s at first, but after Scorpius and his husband offered to take it so they would have space for their grandkids to stay over, Harry had left it behind rather easily. 

The little house at the edge of Godric’s Hollow was the perfect blend of out of the public’s eye, and yet still part of a wizarding community. The papers had had a party when they first moved, speculating on their decision to move to the place where Harry’s parents died, speculating over their impending deaths, and how they’d managed to stay married for so long. 

Draco didn’t care. The magic folk who lived in Godric’s Hollow were perfectly lovely, and Sirius always came to tea on Sunday afternoons, often with his parter, which was perfectly as lovely as well. Scorpius and his husband came around every so often, usually toting along a grandchild or two. Little Cassie had met the man of her dreams and they’d proceeded to have seven children, all of whom were both painfully polite and wild with youthful magic. 

The Weasley descendants also managed to find their way to their residence as well. Although Hermione had passed a year back, Ron always found the time to come over with tired folds in his face and a broad smile for Harry. 

It was the perfect, and most nostalgic life they could’ve built for themselves. 

“Da, quit your reminiscing,” Sirius groaned, resting his arm around Draco’s shoulders. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“Draco,” Harry called from the kitchen. “Come in here!”

“Coming, dear.” Draco grinned and beckoned to Sirius. “Take me to the kitchen.”

**_101 years old_ **

The world was gray. Scorpius insisted that it wasn’t really, that seeing life in black and white was simply Draco’s way of coping. 

When Draco had insisted to Mind Healers that the world had turned gray after… after Harry, they ended up running countless tests on him. 

Turns out that Harry might’ve taken a piece of Draco along with him, leaving Draco with this world. A world that Harry had brought so much color and life into, and then taken the color right out again when he passed. 

Draco stood, ignoring the poking pain in his knees, in front of their house on the corner end of the road. He could go in, physically speaking. And yet, he couldn’t go in. For a million reasons. 

Maybe he would someday. In a couple years, if he was even alive then, or maybe he would be able to in a couple of weeks. He didn’t know when he’d be able to walk back through the door when the last time he’d walked out of it was with Harry’s body. Maybe never. 

But then, Draco didn’t think he would be able to never go in there. His and Harry’s memories were scattered all over the world, in an infinite number of ways, in an infinite number of beds, in an infinite number of smiles. Their memories were everywhere, but Draco’s home had been Harry, and Harry’s last home was here. Which meant in some sort of misguided relation that this would also be Draco’s home until the end of his life. 

It didn’t feel right without Harry. 

Nothing felt right without Harry. 

But he was still alive, and he was still in love, and nothing was ever going to change that. 

**Author's Note:**

> Check me out on Tumblr @drarryangels!


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